Mo Shíorghrá
by Nagiana
Summary: *Sequel to "For the Love of the Saints"* When Connor and Murphy return to Boston from Ireland after eight long years of being gone, they are unprepared by how much has changed, especially the woman they left behind - their Branna. Predominantly ConnorxOC with maybe/possibly a hint of MurphyxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to part two of my Boondock Saint's series. This fanfic will posses a lot of changes, mainly that it will be strictly a BrannaxConnor fanfic (I MIGHT put some BrannaxMurphy in here, but I am not entirely sure yet) and unlike "For the Love of the Saint's" I do not have this story mapped out. So my updated might be sporadic and for that I apologize in advance. It also does loosely follow along with the plot-line of the second movie like the last one did with the first movie. **

**kat hakate90: See, I didn't leave you hanging too long! And I completely understand how you feel. I don't feel as close to Branna as I do, say, Tessa, but I understand completely. I can't write another DarylxOC Female fic for Walking Dead because I already feel like Daryl should only be with Tess. Its weird, but I definitely need to get off this train of thought because this isn't Walking Dead, so how the Hell did Tessa and Daryl find themselves in this author's note? O.o  
**

**mrsreedus69: Hope you read fast, 'cause here's the sequel hun! LOL**

**SabakuNoGaara426: Does this answer your question? ;)**

**Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy this starting chapter to this fanfic and remember: read, review and above all - enjoy!**

**- Nagiana**

**P.S. - before you guys review me saying anything - his name was NOT intentional, LOL! I was cruising around baby name sites looking for good Irish male names and when I saw it, it clicked and since I'm huge on character names clicking, I kept it. So yes, it is staying and no, I did not notice what it was until I was editing this chapter today :)**

* * *

_"Give me a whisper_

_And give me a sigh_

_Give me a kiss before you_

_tell me goodbye_

_Don't you take it so hard now_

_And please don't take it so bad_

_I'll still be thinkin' of you_

_And the times we had . . ."_

_"Don't Cry" by Guns N' Roses_

* * *

_Favorite Line(s):_

___"__Never_!" A flicker of slight anger appeared in his beautiful blue eyes then as he replied to her. That time, it was _his _voice that had dropped down to a breathy whisper full of disbelief and anger. She continued to gaze into his eyes, however - those beautiful blue eyes that she had missed for so long and had seen only in her dreams. "_Never_ call bullshit on tha' – on how I feel fer ya! 

* * *

_Eight Years Later . . ._

"So did ya two arrive safely?"

Connor grinned into his cellphone. He stood on the creaking wooden Boston dock, Murphy and Romeo's loud laughter coming behind him, and nodded. He already felt better. He already felt closer to Branna. "Yah, ma, we did." He replied and he could practically see her nod as she told him that was good – that she was glad. She then fell quiet for a moment – so long, in fact, that Connor thought he had lost her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she suddenly spoke, causing him to abruptly close his mouth.

"Listen, Conn, I know tha two of ya are gonna wanna see Bran, but promise me somethin', would ya . . .?" She asked, her voice sounding slightly anxious, and Connor's eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. This wasn't often a tone his mother's voice took.

"Yeah, o' course I will, ma! What is it?"

"I've kept up wit her all these years and I have to tell ya somethin'. Ya go see her first and ya go alone." She told him, her voice suddenly turning firm. "Don' ya bring Murph wit ya tha first time – ya go _alone_! Ya understand me?"

"But why, ma?"

"Don' ya question me, Connor MacManus!" Annabelle snapped through the line, and Connor had to force himself to keep from grinning. "Now ya listen ta me, Connor! Ya take Murph wit ya tha first time and shite's gonna hit tha fan! _Don'_ take him wit ya – ya go _alone_!"

Connor couldn't help but still feel extremely confused at his mother's warning, but promised her that he would listen to her and go alone the first time he went to go see Branna. She told him he was a good boy and he hung up the phone after telling her he and Murphy loved her. He turned around and walked back to the two men waiting for him and both turned expressionless gazes onto him.

"What did ma want?" Murphy asked and Connor shrugged his shoulders.

"Jus' wanted ta know if we got here okay and ta come back safe. Tha' and she loved us." He told him, leaving out what she said about Branna, and Murphy nodded, not questioning him because his explanation _did_ sound like their mother. Connor simply looked away as Murphy descended back into his conversation with Romeo then, the lighter MacManus deep in thought. Why would he need to go alone to see Branna the first time? Wouldn't she want to see them both as soon as they got back? Was she . . . hiding something?

Connor shook his head, not wanting to think about it too long or risk making himself sick, and instead, turned his customary grin onto his brother and Romeo, a grin that the both of them quickly returned. "So, what 'bout it? Ya two wanna go see Doc?" Connor asked and while Murphy immediately jumped up in excitement, Romeo furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion as he asked who the Hell 'Doc' was. Murphy and Connor said they'd explain it to him in the car and while Connor continued to grin all the way there, only Murphy knew that grin was largely false.

Connor didn't grin that much anymore.

* * *

Connor hadn't expected a lot from Doc when they showed up on his doorstep that night, but what he absolutely _had not _expected, was the look of graveness that appeared on the old man's face when Connor asked him about Branna later that night when Murphy and Romeo were busy fighting over who would go into the storeroom and get the next case of beer. Doc shook his head.

"She's h-h-had it rough since tha two of ya l-l-left." He told him and Connor immediately felt his heart drop down into the pit of his stomach. How rough had she had it? Was she still around? Was she still _alive_? Why the _Hell _did Doc have such a grave look on his face when he brought up Branna? Hell, was it because they had _left _her?

All these questions and more were swirling through Connor's head with the force of a hurricane as he leaned there on the bar talking to Doc and when he finally spoke, his voice came out hoarse and slightly afraid. "How bad did she have it? Is she still around?" He asked and Doc brightened somewhat.

"Oh she's doing well now! She's Irish, Conn – ya can't get us down f-f-f-f-for long!" He told him and Connor smiled and nodded as he glanced away. Branna had always been one of the strongest women he had ever known. And it might have been dickish of them to think such a thing, but they had known them leaving her _would_ have hurt her, but they also knew she would eventually recover. Branna always managed to bounce back – she _always _did.

"Is she still around?" Connor asked again and Doc nodded.

"O' Course! She has an a-a-apartment down by O-O-O-O'Shoney's. It's not big per-say, but it's decent sized and it suits her needs fer now. She likes it."

"She still workin' tha same job?" He asked and Doc adopted a soft look on his face as he gazed at the man sitting before him. As soon as Connor had walked in, Doc's anger at him all but instantly abated. By the sight of him, it was quite clear that the man had suffered over the years, just as much as Branna had. His looks had changed much in the eight years since him and Murphy had been gone, his sleek, aquiline good-looks disappearing in favor of a fuller, older handsomeness. He was also built a little bit bigger now, his rail-thinness replaced with a muscular bulk that Doc never would have thought Connor would have acquired when he was younger. His eyes, however, was what had changed the most. The mirth of his younger days had been replaced with a forlorn unhappiness and misery that that seemed to permeate them down to his very soul. It was this look in his eyes that had caused Doc's anger of him to disappear. This man had suffered a lot.

"Why don' ya ask these q-q-questions to her yourself, Conn?" He asked him gently, and Connor immediately turned a wide-eyed look onto him. He shook his head.

"I don' . . . what if she doesn' want ta see me? I can' . . . I can' jus' barge into her life like tha' Doc – tha' ain' right – not after what I've done ta her!" He told him and Doc let out a bark of a laugh. He shook his head.

"Connor, lad, b-b-believe me – if me g-g-g-granddaughter found out ya were here and had _not _went ta see her, then I would _not _wanna be ya!" He told him and Connor smiled and let out a laugh. He looked away.

"I wouldn' know what ta say ta her anyway, Doc. I left her and didn' tell her where I was goin'. I jus' . . ." He gave a shrug. "I don' know if I should, no matter _if _it's what she wants." Doc shook his head as he reached forward and placed his hand on Connor's shoulder from across the bar.

"Connor, lad. Ya need ta see her. I can' tell ya why, but ya _need_ ta." He told him and Connor gazed at him for a few minutes before nodding.

"Where does she live again?" He asked and Doc smiled and nodded. He hastily scribbled something down on a bar napkin before sliding it towards him. Connor took it and quickly pushed it down into his back jeans pocket as Romeo and Murphy walked over to the bar. While Murphy shot him a slightly confused look, Connor simply gave a shrug as he picked up his beer and took a swig.

* * *

Branna _had _certainly done well for herself. The apartment she was living in now, while not extravagant, was certainly part of the upper echelon of Boston's Irish South Side. It was a good-sized building of white brick and even had its own doorman that greeted him with a thick Irish accent but gave him a suspicious look nonetheless, especially when he inquired as to which floor Branna Whelan resided on.

"I'm sorry sir, but we don' 'ave a Branna Whelan in this buildin'. We 'ave a Branna _MacManus_ who lives on tha' third floor, but not a Branna Whelan."

Connor felt temporarily floored at the man's words. Branna had changed her _name_? It wasn't exactly that he was complaining, but . . . why?

Connor nodded after a moment. "Yeah, tha's who I meant, sorry. I'm an old friend and I haven' seen her in a while – I didn' know tha' she had changed her name." He told him and the doorman nodded. He gave him the okay to go on up but did let him know that he would call ahead. Connor nodded, figuring that at least Branna wouldn't be _that _surprised to see him.

She was waiting for him when he finally reached the third floor. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her eyes widened in shock when she saw him. "C-Connor . . .?"

His name came on a purely confused tongue when she stood there and gazed at him for a moment, almost as if she couldn't believe that it was really him, before a look of dawning recognition appeared on her face. Her eyes grew wide as a hand immediately flew to her mouth. "Oh ma God, Conn, it really _is_ ya! When Patrick called up sayin' ya were comin' up, I thought . . . I thought it was a cruel joke, but no, ya . . . ya really here . . .!" Branna's shocked voice came out in a low tone full of disbelief. He gave a little laugh and a weak smile as he nodded. His hands moved to bury in the front pockets of his jeans and they stood there for a moment, Branna in her apartment with Connor standing on the other side of her threshold in front of her as slowly but steadily, her eyes filled up with tears. "Ya dare show ya face ta me?" She asked him, her voice lowering to a breathy whisper still filled with disbelief, and Connor shook his head, his eyes becoming mournful.

"_Mavourneen_, ya know we had ta leave! We were bein' hunted – we were -!"

"Please, don' say anythin' more, Connor MacManus! Jus' . . . shut up and come in 'fore ya get tha neighbors houndin' me arse!" She interrupted him, her eyes flickering with anger that her voice quickly grew to mimic. She shook her head as she stepped aside, allowing him to enter her home and he obediently did so, his head bowing and his eyes throwing themselves to the floor. She closed the door behind them and immediately moved to cross her arms in front of her chest again as she turned around to face him. Connor brought his eyes up to hers as he did so and she shook her head again. "Would ya mind startin' out by explainin' why exactly ya are 'ere?"

Connor shook his head in response to her words. "I had ta see ya – tha's why I'm here. I-I missed ya, Branna -"

"Bullshit."

"_Never_!" A flicker of slight anger appeared in his beautiful blue eyes then as he replied to her. That time, it was _his _voice that had dropped down to a breathy whisper full of disbelief and anger. She continued to gaze into his eyes, however - those beautiful blue eyes that she had missed for so long and had seen only in her dreams. "_Never_ call bullshit on tha' – on how I feel fer ya! We've missed ya tha entire time we've been in Ireland – _I've _missed ya tha entire time we've been in Ireland!" He shook his head then. "Please tell me ya missed us too . . ." He swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to lick at his suddenly dry as sandpaper lips. "Please tell me ya missed _me_!"

Branna swallowed hard and opened her mouth to say something as she shifted uneasily from foot-to-foot. However, she was interrupted by a knock echoing on the door. They shared a lingering look as she turned around and headed towards the door, where she opened it. Connor turned around as she did so and walked further into her apartment, his eyes scanning every available detail that he could easily find. He immediately took notice of the warm color palate of the walls and the décor and just the overall expensiveness of it. Doc hadn't been lying - she wasn't doing too badly for herself. She had come a very long way from sharing a falling-down, illegal loft apartment with two Irish twins that also had no hot water unless you ran it for at least fifteen minutes.

"_Alannah, _how did ya like spendin' tha night at Brian's?"

The zipping of a coat and the crinkling sound of water-resistant clothe split the silence as someone took off said coat. "It was a lot of fun. We watched cartoons and that new animated movie that just came out. And then Brian's da almost lost a finger because he was playing with his dog and it got a little too excited and lunged at him!" Branna's light laughter filled with love and adoration, practically assaulted his ears. "School was good too. We're working on a project in science based on the water cycle."

"Are ya now? D'ya like it so far?"

Connor immediately felt an icy finger run down his spine when he heard Branna's soft, loving voice accompanied by the immature one of a child. He found himself slowly turning around before he could stop himself, where he found her kneeling in front of said child. The child was a boy that was no older than eight and Connor had to swallow hard to get past the hard lump that had been forming in his throat since he first heard the door close and someone taking off a coat. Branna looked up when she felt Connor's eyes on them and smiled a small smile as she stood, took the little boy's hand and slowly led him over to Connor.

"Sean, this is Connor MacManus; he's an old boyfriend of mine. He's been livin' in Ireland for tha past eight years 'cause of his job and I haven' seen him in a long time. He's here ta pay me a visit."

_Sean . . . it means a Gift from God_ . . .

Sean smiled and nodded as he confidently held out his hand to him. Connor swallowed hard again as he forced himself to smile and squat down so that they were level with each other. He reached out and upon taking the boy's small hand in his, shook it. The kid had a surprisingly strong grip and Connor's eyes quickly scanned the boy, noticing immediately that he had olive-colored skin but light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes.

"It's very nice ta meet ya, Sean. How old are ya, little man?" He asked when their handshake ended and Sean continued to smile.

"I'll be eight and a half next month." Connor's eyes immediately widened in pretend awe.

"Is tha' right, now - eight and a half next month, eh? Why, ya almost a teenager! Ya gonna be fightin' off tha girls left and right here pretty soon!" He told him and Sean grinned and laughed before he shook his head.

"I don't wanna grow up. Momma says when I'll grow up that I'll get all these kinds of new responsibilities and a cubic buttload of homework, so she told me not to want to grow up _too _fast. I _do_ want to grow up, but growing up can take its time getting here, that's all." He told him and Branna couldn't help but grin and let out a laugh at his answer. Connor grinned as well as he chuckled, his eyes softening.

"Well, Sean, if I've learned anyting these past years tha' I've known ya ma, its tha she's a very smart woman. Ya should listen ta her well and often – someting I never did and I should have." Sean nodded in agreement as Branna settled her hands on his thin, small shoulders.

"Sean, darlin', it's almost time for bed. Ya wanna go wash up and brush ya teeth while I catch up wit Connor for a moment longer? I won' be long, I promise." She told him and Sean nodded as he turned his gaze up to hers.

"Will you be in for prayers?" He asked her and Branna nodded in reply, her eyes growing soft as she gently prodded him in the direction of the bathroom. Connor's face remained expressionless while inside he felt a curious mixture of confusion and interest. Branna had never been very religious to begin with – a sore topic with both Connor and Murphy's mother and father while him and Murphy had simply avoided talking about it with her. Why would she be raising her son religious while she herself wasn't?

When he had left, was when Connor turned his soft eyes onto her. "He's beautiful, Branna." He told her and Branna smiled in thanks as her arms moved to cross in front of her chest again.

"Tanks. And he's so bloody smart too, Conn! Straight A's – tha's all he'll allow himself ta get. He's good wit his hands, too – can build anyting ya put in front of him . . ." She gave a weak laugh then as she trailed off and ran her fingers through her still black as soot hair without a touch of gray. He smiled a small smile.

"His father must be proud of him."

"His father doesn' know _of_ him." She corrected him as she turned her eyes up to his and changed the subject. "Where's Murph? I'm surprised he's not wit ya." Connor heaved a heavy sigh as he gingerly rubbed the back of his neck.

"He's still back at Doc's waitin' for me ta get back. We thought tha both of us suddenly showin' up on ya doorstep at eight at night would be a little alarmin'. So, we decided that one of us would show up today and tha other would show up at another time if ya wanted. I got today." Branna arched a slightly condescending brow.

"Did ya flip a coin on it?" Connor shook his head.

"No . . . I wanted ta come today – I _wanted_ ta come first."

"Why?" She asked him, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion and curiosity and Connor heaved another heavy sigh, deciding not to tell her that Annabelle had advised it.

"I wanted ta tell ya tha' I loved ya – tha' I _still_ love ya! I wanted ta tell ya tha' we didn' want ta leave ya, lass – tha' we _had _ta leave ya!" Branna let out a sarcastic little snort then and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I'll call bullshit on tha' any day of tha week! Tha' two of ya didn' _have_ ta go off and kill Yakavetta on live television, Conn! Ya guys didn' '_ave_ to become vigilantes – ya two had everythin' ya could ever want wit me!" Her eyes became slightly mournful then. "Ya two had _everythin_' wit me!" Connor nodded in reply, his expression becoming as mournful as hers was.

"I know, _mavourneen_, I know! But ya didn' know wha' it was like! Ya didn' know how much it hurt us whenever we would turn on tha news every mornin' and every evenin' and see tha same pathetic shit on it every damn day! Ya didn' know wha' it was doin' ta us jus' sittin' there doin' nothin' 'bout it – how badly it burned in us not doin' anyting for Bri!" Branna shook her head.

"Ya didn' even tell me ya were leavin', ya know?" She spoke up, her voice soft and Connor flinched violently at the realization. They hadn't. They hadn't told her a word of where they were going – for her own safety, their father would always tell them - but Connor still had his reservations. He hadn't acted on them, however, and that alone was the one thing that kept his guilty feelings going for eight straight years. They stayed in silence then for a moment before Connor decided to break it.

"Wha' is Sean's last name, Branna?" He asked her, his voice gentle and quiet, and Branna turned her eyes up to his.

"Wha' are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Ya heard me. Wha's ya son's last name, Bran?" He asked and Branna gazed at him dumbly for a minute. She opened her mouth to say something but was saved by Sean suddenly come running from the room, dressed in fresh pajamas and with a sparkling, award-winning smile.

"Momma, I'm done! Are you coming with me to help me say my prayers?" He asked her and she smiled and nodded as she framed her son's face with her hands and bent down, where she pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.

"O' course I am, _alannah_. Are ya ready _now_?" She asked him and Sean nodded as he glanced up at Connor towering above him.

"Does Connor want to come too?"

Branna turned a halfway expressionless gaze onto Connor who smiled apologetically and shook his head. "No, but maybe next time, Sean, okay?" He asked and Sean nodded, allowing the rebuff to slide off him like water as he grasped his mother's hand and pulled her off in the direction of what Connor assumed was the little boy's bedroom. Connor stood there for a moment as they disappeared into the room, the light cutting on seconds later. As Connor ran his fingers over his lips, he let out a low curse under his breath. What had he been _thinking_? What had the both of them _honestly _been thinking? Did they honestly think that Branna would remain holding a torch for them for eight long years – especially after what they had done to her – how they had left her so suddenly and coldly? Did they not think that she would move on – start a family of her own – a family that she had started _without _them?

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by another icy finger running up and down his spine. "And Shepherds we shall be/ For thee, my Lord, for thee/ Power hath descended forth/ from Thy hand, that our feet . . ."

The rest of the prayer faded from his hearing as Connor turned swiftly around on his heels. He had heard the family prayer being delivered from the lips of Sean and wasted no time in appearing in the little boy's bedroom doorway in record time. They both looked up when he appeared and his eyes settled onto Sean, who only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Let me ask ya, someting - where did ya learn tha' prayer, Sean?" He asked him, knowing damn good and well that Branna would not have taught that prayer to just _anyone_. Sean glanced in confusion at his mother before turning his gaze back onto Connor.

"Momma taught it to me. She said it was my daddy's family prayer and that I should learn it because that makes it my prayer too." Connor nodded, wordlessly - dumbfoundedly.

"From Thy hand, that our feet/ May swiftly carry out Thy command/ so we shall flow a river forth to Thee/ and teeming with souls shall it ever be . . ." Connor continued and Branna smiled a small smile at the beyond confused look in Sean's eyes as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"His full name, Connor, is Sean Connor MacManus. He's the reason I changed my last name to 'MacManus'." Her eyes filled with tears again. "He's named after his da, Conn . . ."

And then, with sudden clarity, Connor knew why his ma had told him to go alone the first night. Shit _definitely _would have hit the proverbial fan if he had brought Murphy.

But as he gazed at the little boy, he felt those missing pieces fall into place in his heart. He had missed Branna, yes, but he had also missed the son he never knew he had been graced with.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter could not make up its mind where it wanted to be placed in this fic, I swear to God! First, it liked being the second chapter, like it is now then, it wanted to come later with a few chapters being written before it. Eventually, I made up its mind for it and it ended up being put here. It does contain a lemon so do expect some smexy good times but other than that, I'm . . . content with it. Not my best, not my worst, but still, I'll take it :)**

**By the way, I'll just place this little tidbit of information here . . . "Mo shíorghrá" (muh HEER-ggrah): meaning "My Eternal Love" is a more modern translation of the the concept of soul mates**

**Very Happy Guest (Guest): Glad you checked up on my Walking Dead fanfics, how have they been treating you so far? And by the way, I agree with you - love me some Connor ;)**

**mrsreedus69: Thank you so much for the review! And I don't yet, ya might just have to keep reading ;)**

**HermioneandMarcus: Thanks hun - always good to hear from ya :)**

* * *

_"And please remember that I never lied_

_And please remember_

_How I felt inside now honey_

_You gotta make it your own way_

_But you'll be alright now sugar_

_You'll feel better tomorrow_

_Come the morning light now baby . . ."_

_- "Don't Cry" by Guns N' Roses_

* * *

_Favorite Line(s):_

_"O' course I will. Ya tink I'm gonna give up an excuse ta get ta know ma son?" _

* * *

Connor watched, wordlessly, as Branna finished tucking her son – _their_ son – he quickly found himself mentally correcting, into bed. He gave the young boy a small smile from his spot leaning against the opened doorway of his room, as Branna bent over him and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead. Sean returned his smile as his mother leaned over further still in order to cut off the lamp sitting on his bedside table. Her eyes crossed briefly with Connor's and their gazes held for a moment as she then got to her feet and made her way over to him. Together, they left Sean's bedroom and Branna quickly but quietly closed the door behind them.

When they were alone in the living room again, was when Connor finally broke the heavy, all-encompassing silence between them. He did so with a voice thick with an emotion that was difficult for Branna to place, and with a hand that gingerly rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. "How did ya . . . how did ya know -?"

"Tha' he was ya son and not Murph's?" She immediately interrupted him and he nodded with a heavy swallow. Branna heaved a sigh.

"Bri took me ta tha same hospital tha' tha two of ya went to the day after ya killed tha Russians. I told them one of ya was tha possible father and they jus' so happened to have ya blood on file so they could do a paternity test. It came back wit ya as tha father. Tha' and ya were tha last man I slept wit before ya two left, and also . . ." She gave a half laugh then as she gestured back towards the closed door. "Look at tha' light brown hair and those blue eyes! He's ya spittin' fuckin' image, Conn!"

Connor couldn't help but laugh as well as they stood there in the middle of Branna's living room – two people who had once loved the other with a love that was almost the stuff of myths and legends – but now felt like two strangers. "D'ya still 'ave tha tattoo?" He suddenly asked her, and Branna nodded.

"Yah . . . I don' tink I'll ever get rid of it. So when Sean asks me later who Connor and Murphy are, I can say tha' Connor is ya – his da – and tha' Murphy is his uncle, who I also loved back then wit a love tha' most people only dream 'bout." Connor let out a relieved sigh at that and nodded as he also let out a weak laugh.

"Good . . . tha'd be one Hell of a tattoo ta get removed!" He spoke and she laughed as well before they descended into another awkward silence, one that Connor eventually broke again. He couldn't stand the awkward silences that were starting to settle between them – not when they were known for the comfortable silences of their mutual past. "Why did ya never tell me 'bout him, Branna?"

She turned a sharp gaze onto him. "How was I supposed ta? I didn' know where ya were. Hell, not even ya _mother_ knew where ya two were!"

"Does she know 'bout him?" He asked, curiosity evident in his eyes as he gazed at her, and Branna nodded.

"She knows tha' she has a grandson and tha' his name is Sean Connor MacManus. She knows his father is ya and not Murph. She's never met him but she does talk ta him on tha phone whenever she can and she loves him wit a love tha' only a grandmother can possess for her only grandchild. As for Sean . . ." She gave a shrug. "He knows he's full-blooded Irish, even though he doesn' have tha accent. He knows his grandma lives in Ireland and now, he finally knows who his father is," She smiled a tight, cold smile then as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "The father tha' has been gone for tha last eight years of his life . . . his _entire _life, in fact . . ."

"Not by ma choice, Branna -"

"Ya damn right it was ya choice, Connor!" Branna interrupted him, her tone and expression becoming angry again. "Ya know damn good and well tha' ya had a choice! Ya could 'ave stayed home and raised ya son wit me instead of goin' out and killin' Yakavetta on TV wit ya damn father and Murph!"

"I wouldn' 'ave gone if ya would 'ave _told_ me ya were pregnant!" He practically yelled back at her, his eyes flaring with anger, and after she let out a harsh "Shh!" he substantially lowered his voice but in no way calmed down. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed so they wouldn't disturb Sean, however, the anger was in no way completely dissolved. "I would 'ave stayed wit ya, Bran, if only ya had told me! Ya damn _right _I would 'ave stayed! Ya tink I would have gone and done tha', if I knew I was goin' ta be forced to leave behind tha woman I loved and ma son?" He shook his head. "No . . . no, I _never _would 'ave gone wit 'em. I would 'ave stayed wit ya and I would 'ave raised him -!"

"But ya didn', did ya?" She hissed back at him, her eyes filling with tears. "'Cause tha day I found out tha' I was pregnant, was two weeks after ya two left witout a word as ta where ya guys were goin' – _before _I could tell ya! D'ya know, Connor, how long I stayed in tha' apartment waitin' for ya guys before I finally went ta ma grandfather wit tear-stained cheeks, ya fuckin' baby in ma womb and wit such a broken heart tha' I almost felt like _dyin'_ from it?" She shook her head as she blinked back bitter tears. "Ya two were ma life – I loved ya two like I 'ave _never_ been able to love anyone other than our son and ya guys jus' . . . _left me_ there!" Her teeth gritted as she swallowed a heavy lump that had been steadily growing in her throat the entire time. "For tha love of God, _ya _left me there, Conn! After ya promised me ya wouldn'!"

Connor shook his head, not knowing what to say and his eyes wide with pleading forgiveness instead of anger. "_Mavourneen_, please, we . . . we didn' mean to do tha' ta ya!" He told her, his voice weak, and Branna let out a snort of derision as she blinked back her tears.

"Yah, tha's wha ya been sayin' since ya showed up and its startin' ta get old, I 'ave ta admit!" She all but snapped at him before nodding to the door. "But I don' know wha' more ya could possibly want. Ya've seen me – ya've seen ya son. Now, I would appreciate it if ya could jus' leave!"

Those cruel, terse words seemed to do it. Before she could say or do anything, everything seemed to explode around her at once. With a loud smash, the mirror on the wall by the TV was shattered into a million tiny pieces and the shards fell to the maroon-colored carpeted floor in jagged pieces. It was not as deafening as the resounding, sharp crack that split through the still air when Connor's fist made contact with the wall, but it was still pretty deafening, nonetheless.

Neither of them said anything or moved for a long moment as they allowed to sink in what had just happened. Dully, Branna realized that she had a hole in her wall, and when she looked at him from beneath thick black eyelashes, she wasn't sure on whether or not she saw guilt there shining in his world-weary blue eyes for leaving her for eight long years with the son he never knew he had until that moment, or righteousness _because_ he felt no guilt because he believed, with every ounce of his heart, that what him and Murphy and their father had done, was a good and righteous thing.

She felt anger rise up within her but before she could retaliate, Connor grabbed up her hands and then forced her back against the wall he had punched, with a strength that momentarily knocked the wind from her lungs. She had forgotten how strong he was, and Connor's strength certainly surprised her then. Sensing her spiteful insults simmering just below the surface, he crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss before seemingly melding their bodies together. They were both futile to the mutual desire raging through them and despite the lingering pain her words had caused, Branna couldn't help but moan wantonly into his mouth as his hands framed her face and his tongue plundered her mouth, their breathing coming out harsh and wanton through their noses.

His lips were slightly chapped and his tongue was hot as he dragged her backwards towards her darkened bedroom. Teeth found her bottom lip and her groan of desire curbed off into a whimper of slight pain when he sunk his teeth into the tender flesh. Despite the ferocity of his kiss, he wrapped his lips around her bottom one before sucking, his tongue swiping over the cut to ease the pain. His hands – which were rough and bruising - clung and slid over every available surface and curve of her body, finding that little about her had changed over the years, including those curves he had loved so much.

Clothes were shed quickly and torn with an abandonment that shocked the both of them. And then, in minutes that practically bordered on seconds, they were on the bed with Connor pounding into her with another reckless abandon. Her legs immediately found themselves being supported on his broad shoulders instead of around his waist – the hollows of her knees finding a strange sort of home on his shoulders. He curled a hand around one of her thighs and the deep angle only seemed to add to the intoxicating headiness of the situation they had suddenly found themselves in together.

There had been no preparation, and Branna grimaced at how long it had been since they had come together that violently – since she had been that violent with any man, for that matter. He gave her but a moment to adjust before his first earth-shattering thrust hit home. And it was then that she realized that there was nothing loving in the way they were coming together at that moment. They were leaving bruises - bloody bites and gouges along the other's skin. Branna moaned out her pleasure and encouragement as he hoisted her legs back a little further and answered her with animalistic-like grunts before his lips and teeth found the delicate skin of her inner thigh – marking her as his and his alone.

Somewhere distantly, Branna found herself wondering if this is what they would have called 'fucking' earlier in their life, when it was just the three of them and their rundown apartment that was still there – still located just a few blocks down the street along with McGinty's. Her thoughts scattered, however, when Connor shifted his weight against her ever-so-slightly. It was a movement that only made her fist her fingers into his hair even more as the nails of her other hand tore into his shoulder – an action that made his let out a hiss of slight pain as his teeth gritted in the same emotion. She arched her back off of the bed and against him, urging him on. By God, she had missed this - this intimacy of having Connor so deeply inside of her, even when their passion was laced with anger, bitterness and abhorrence.

Branna would be the first to admit – she hadn't even _tried _to a hold a torch for the MacManus brothers. When they left she figured they had left for good, so she might as well move on. She had relationships with her fair share of other men over the years since him and Murphy had been gone, but constantly, she found herself realizing that those said men were nothing like them – Connor especially. There was an intimacy with Connor that she had rarely experienced with anyone else except maybe Murphy and even then, he seemed to slide by with the skin of his teeth. But for the love of God, Connor was the father of her _son_ – he would always have a certain intimacy with her that no other man would ever be able to achieve in their wildest of dreams.

She was now unabashedly moaning as her nails dug even more into the flesh of his shoulders and his back. She begged him and moaned and whimpered and Connor found that he adored every sound he could still get her to make. Very little had changed between them and never before had he been so happy.

"Oh ma _God_ . . . yes, Connor! Fuck me _there_ – right _there_, _macushla_ – oh _God_ yes; ya feel so _good_ . . .!"

He was right there with her when she finally tumbled over the precipice and the world shattered and careened around her in a colorfully warm arc. They fell together, riding out their joint ecstasy with moans and groans of the other's name. His hips stilled and quaked in-between hers as he released inside of her. And when reality slowly started to piece itself back together, Branna became aware that he had managed to wrap his arms around her in a certain protectiveness that she realized she had long missed. She also realized that he was trembling and Branna didn't need the damp sensation against the nape of her neck to know that he was silently crying, and for once, she let him. The man had been through a lot these past eight years – from losing her because of one stupid decision, to learning that he had a son that he mistakenly and unwittingly left behind . . . this time, she would allow his tears.

Branna lovingly ran her fingers through his short, light brown hair, and eventually, he rolled off her and to her left. "I love ya, _mo shíorghrá_ . . ." He whispered brokenly against her shoulder and she returned the sentiment softly before she reached around to grasp his hand, where she wrapped his arm around her waist. He moved to spoon up against her back and his breathing evening out as he faded away into the deep sleep one only got after a good fuck. His nose moved to bury in her hair and into the back of her neck. She would bet her entire fortune that would be the first deep sleep he would have in eight long years.

As she shifted slowly and gently in order to turn over onto her side to face him, she found her gaze softening slightly as she observed him. He had aged in eight years although he was still undoubtedly her Connor. He was still exceedingly handsome but his former aquiline good looks had faded somewhat in favor of an older, fuller handsomeness. His eyes were still the same deep, sapphire blue and his mouth and the shape of his lips still made her swoon. He was still her Connor . . . just a little bit older and – hopefully – a little bit more mature.

It made her wonder just how much Murphy had aged in eight years, too.

She gently cupped his cheek in her hand, where her thumb ghosted over one of his high, sweeping cheekbones. It was then that she leaned in and ever-so-slightly brushed her lips against his. He shifted slightly closer to her but didn't awake and she smiled to herself, wondering if he was still the cover-hogging, sleeping-like-the-grave Connor she remembered him being.

* * *

That morning, everything was silent between them. Connor sat on the edge of the bed and woke himself up as Branna moved around the bedroom, getting herself ready for that morning. She took a quick shower, toweling herself off as Connor sat there and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried desperately to make sense of what had occurred between them that previous night – the suddenness of everything. He didn't watch as the towel fell from her body, only to be replaced with a strangely familiar terrycloth robe.

"Ya want some breakfast, Conn?" She quietly asked him when she was done, and it was then that Connor turned his eyes onto her. He saw the robe and smiled a small, weak smile.

"Whose robe is tha'?"

Branna returned his smile. "Who do ya tink?" He continued to smile as he leaned back on his hands on the bed.

"Ya know, I don' ever tink I've met a woman tha' can compare ta ya, Branna - in every aspect." He told her and she returned his smile.

"Ya one of tha biggest sweethearts I've ever known, Conn." She told him before standing there, thinking for a moment. When she was done, she crossed the space between them and framed his face with her hands. She turned his face up to hers and he immediately locked his gaze with hers. "Look, I don' . . . I don' know yet if last night means anyting yet. But I . . . I do love ya, Conn. I've loved ya for these eight long years tha' ya've been gone, but . . . I'm sorry, but I'm 'avin' a bit of trouble reconcilin' tha' everyting we did last night, actually _happened_!"

"It's alright . . . take all tha' time ya need, _mavourneen_. And I love ya too. Ya don' ever 'ave ta doubt tha'." He told her and she held his gaze before biting down on her bottom lip.

"Stay with me? Stay with _us_? At least . . . at least for a little while?" She asked, hesitation echoing in her eyes, and Connor gave her a loving smile as he leaned upwards and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, loving kiss. When they broke apart, he nodded as one of his thumbs swept across one of her high cheekbones.

"O' course I will. Ya tink I'm gonna give up an excuse ta get ta know ma son?" He joked and Branna immediately broke out into a grin as she took up his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Good to know. Now come on, let me get ya breakfast . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

**mrsreedus69: Yeah, still mapping out how exactly I want Connor to break the news to Murph, but yeah, ya know me - its gonna be huge! ;)**

**JDB (Guest): Whoever you are, I love your reviews! Jus' sayin' that now! And I really, really doubt that Branna will have any lemons with Murph, but Hell, if the inspiration takes me, then I have no choice but to just go with it. My Muse is a fickle little bitch and she fucking hates to be ignored! :)**

**PS - Really sorry for the short chapter, but it'll be longer next chapter, I promise :)**

* * *

_"I think about you_

_Honey all the time_

_my heart says yes._

_I think about you_

_Deep inside I love you best._

_I think about you_

_You know you're the one I want._

_I think about you_

_Darlin' you're the only one_

_I think about you . . ." _

_- "Think About You" by Guns N' Roses_

* * *

_Favorite Line(s):_

_"Well, that's all well and good, but the thing is, I don't know you. And I get that, I really do – you were in Ireland for all my life. But you're here now and since you're here, we need to do something. Together. Like a family." _

* * *

Every day of her life leading up to her death, Branna would always wonder how Murphy had never once realized that she and Connor had resumed their relationship. It wasn't like they went out of their way to hide it and the only thing she knew with an absolute certainty, that Connor had told him in order to keep him off their case, was the simple: "She isn't ready yet."

Sean, however, knew about his mother's new relationship the day after Connor came to see her – the day after they had ended up sleeping together on a split second's notice. It was on that day that Connor realized that Branna hadn't been lying when she told him how much of a smart kid Sean was. He had walked into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to the smells of cooking food, only to see Connor sitting at the kitchen bar, nursing a cup of steaming black coffee and a cigarette as Branna cooked breakfast. Hair mussed, feet bare and wearing ridiculously rumpled clothing, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that this was Sean's mother's new boyfriend. And much to Connor's surprise, too, Sean didn't really seem to mind it at all. A silent Sean had simply climbed up onto the barstool beside him and allowed Connor to give him a small smile as he rumpled the messy hair that matched his own. Branna shared Connor's smile as she set a glass of orange juice down in front of their son and then things proceeded to continue on as normal.

"Ya usual, _alannah_?" Branna asked him, a teasing glint in her eyes, and Sean silently nodded. His mother continued to give him the same smile as she placed a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and fried potatoes in front of him. She then turned her eyes onto Connor sitting directly across from her. "Are ya hungry too, _macushla_?" Connor gave her a loving smile and nodded as he sat up slightly so that she could place an identical plate in front of him.

"I better be after last night, don' ya tink, Bran?" He quipped with a wink before he took a long drag of his cigarette. Branna immediately felt a hot path of blush burn its way across her cheeks.

"_Connor_!" She scolded him before nodding to a slightly confused looking Sean. "Our _son _is sittin' right next ta ya!" Connor chuckled as he started digging into his food.

"I know, I know, which is why it was deliberately vague. And besides, I was jus' pickin'.' He told her and she nodded, her face softening slightly. She moved over to him and lovingly brushed a lock of his light brown hair out of his face. His eyes softened as well and he abandoned his food in favor of wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him. He swore to God, he would never take holding her for granted, again.

"I know. And I'm sorry, I'm jus' . . . this is takin' some gettin' used ta." She laughed, and Connor nodded.

"I know, too. Jus' tryin' ta lighten tha mood." He grinned and she couldn't help but return his grin along with a roll of her eyes.

"Always tha jokester ya are, Conn!" She spoke and he nodded and murmured something to her that had her laughing as his lips attached to the hollow of her throat. Her eyes closed in bliss and her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer to her as she reveled being in his arms again. Sean watched this with a look of interest. His ma had, had boyfriends in the past, but never were they anything seriously and _never _did they hang around long enough in the morning for her to cook for them. They didn't get a nickname like '_macushla_' and his ma never allowed them to be as affectionate around him, as Connor – his _da_ – was being at that moment.

This only cemented the fact to Sean that his da was different than the others that had come after him. In fact, Sean sensed that Connor was a completely different animal entirely.

Branna pushed Connor away and her eyebrows furrowed in slight concern when she saw that her son was no longer eating and instead, was looking pretty deep in thought. This alone did not alarm her, for her son was well known for allowing himself to daydream at random moments, however, this daydreaming seemed a little bit different. "Sean, what's wrong? Ya not hungry?" She asked him,and Sean didn't deign to answer her for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he gave a nod as he spoke:

"We need to do something today. The three of us." He told them, his voice coming out much more confident than Connor ever thought an eight-year-old's voice could sound, and as a result, he arched his eyebrows as he turned his eyes onto him.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" He asked, and Sean gave a shrug.

"I don't know – _anything_?" He replied before rolling his eyes. He turned slightly on his barstool to face Connor and immediately, a look of amusement speared through his father's eyes as he gave him his complete and undivided attention. "You're my father, right?" He asked, and Connor gave a laugh.

"From what ya ma tells me, yeah, I am!" He told him and Sean nodded.

"Well, that's all well and good, but the thing is, I don't know you. And I get that, I really do – you were in Ireland for all my life. But you're here _now _and since you're here, we need to do something, Together. Like a family." His gaze turned pointed then, but also a little cautious as well. "You . . . you _do _want to be a family, don't you?" He asked, and Connor eyes adopted a loving gleam as he reached forward and ruffled his hair again.

"O' course I do, Sean! I wouldn' 'ave come back if I didn'!" He told him before releasing his hold on a grinning Branna. He leaned forward conspiratorially then. "What do ya wanna to do today?" He asked, and Sean thought for a minute before giving a shrug. He then turned his attention onto Branna, who had moved back around the kitchen bar to the coffeemaker, where she proceeded to get herself another cup.

"What do _you_ want to do today, momma?" He asked, and Branna gave a small smile and a shrug.

"I'm up for anyting. It's what ya boys wanna do. I'm jus' gonna be along for tha' ride." She told them and Connor gave his son another conspiratorial grin, one that Sean couldn't help but grin at.

"And here I thought ya good ol' ma would 'ave figured out by now that ya _never _leave tha' decision makin' ta me!" He told him with a wink in her direction, and Branna immediately looked up to the ceiling in exasperation.

"Oh ma God, ya right! I had _totally _forgotten 'bout tha'! God-"

"Lord's name, Bran!"

* * *

Connor's decision as to what their first ever family outing would be, wasn't exactly the worst one he could have come up with, Branna had to admit.

Ice cream and the park. Seriously – that was all that Connor had thought up.

And while Branna was pretty sure that Connor could definitely have come up with an infinitely cooler way to impress his son on their first outing together as a family, Branna knew well why he had picked something as simple as ice cream and the park. It was low key and simple. He was smart, knowing that their first outing needed to be calm and peaceful instead of exciting and adrenaline-filled. And knowing Connor, there would be plenty of times for those trips later.

"I 'ave ta say . . . I'm impressed wit ya, Connor MacManus." She told him as they made their way down the cobble-stoned pathway of Boston's Central Park a few feet behind a happy Sean. Connor turned an amused look onto her.

"And what makes ya say tha', _mavourneen_?" She gave a shrug.

"I halfway expected our first family outin' ta be somethin' excitin' and havin' ta do with guns and explosions centered 'round a very, very James Bondish or Clint Eastwoodish scenario," She told him with a grin and he rolled his eyes as he returned to his ice cream and as Branna continued on. Hands clasped as they walked, Branna was all-too aware of the stares they were earning by the people that passed them – people who knew good and well that Branna Whelan (or Branna MacManus as she referred to be called now) did _not _have a boyfriend. "But nope. Ya chose ice cream and tha park." She shook her head, a look of slight teasing in her eyes and in her voice. "Did ya grow old on me back in Ireland?" She asked, and Connor chuckled as well and shook his head.

"It's like ya said, Bran, this situation . . . we're all gettin' used ta it. Me and ya, we've gotta get used ta . . ." He trailed off, not knowing how he wanted to put what he was wanting to say, and Branna's eyes softened as he finally continued: "We've gotta get used ta bein' in a relationship again wit a son, if this is how we're gonna play it. If not, then we gotta get used ta other options – not tha' there are other options, jus' lettin' ya know!" He quickly added, and Branna grinned and rolled her eyes in reply as he continued: "And Sean . . . Sean jus' has ta get used ta tha' fact tha' he's got a da now – a da tha' plans on bein' in his life for every wakin' moment from here on out! So, I guess this outin' – this . . . _family outin_', is simple and calm because right now, our lives _need _peace and calm– not excitement and adrenaline! Tha' can always come later."

Branna nodded slowly at his words, her eyes glinting with respect. "Ya grew up over tha years over there, didn' ya? Ya da's influence, I take it?" She asked him and he glanced at her.

"Yeah, I suppose I did, and yeah, I suppose it was. I guess . . ." He gave a weak shrug. "I want ya ta know tha' I never moved on after ya, Bran! Murph did ta a certain extent, but me . . . I never did. I never _could_." She recoiled slightly.

"Ya never . . . ya never had a relationship?" She asked and he gave another shrug.

"I did, but not one worth talkin' 'bout. There was never a storybook, Hollywood movie-esque relationship tha' made me fall head over heels for a lass who finally gave me tha strength ta move on from ya! I didn' _want _a woman tha' wasn' ya, Branna! I wanted ya and since I couldn' 'ave ya, then . . ." He gave another shrug. "I guess I forced maself to stay put. I knew I'd see ya again, I jus' didn' know when and 'til tha' day came, I wasn' gonna move on. I guess I was stubborn tha' way."

"What if ya never would 'ave seen me again?" She asked him, her voice soft, and he gazed at her for a moment before shrugging.

"Well then, I guess I would 'ave been alone 'til I died." He replied, his voice equally as soft, and it was then that they came to a stop when they realized that Sean had come to a stop as well. He spun around, where he ran over to them. His hand immediately latched onto Branna's.

"Momma, can I go play with Seamus? He's on the monkeybars over there!" He asked while pointing in the direction of a set of colorfully painted monkeybars and a child dangling from them. Branna nodded.

"Promise me ya'll stay in sight? Tha' ya won' go wonderin' off like last time?" She asked him and Sean nodded.

"I promise."

Her face turned stern. "And ya better keep ta tha' promise too, young man. I 'ave no doubt in ma mind tha' ya da'll be watchin' ya too and ya don' want ya old man ta 'ave ta hunt ya down!" She told him sternly, and Connor nodded as he gently cuffed him.

"I'll box ya ears if I 'ave ta come find ya! 'Cause if I don', then ya ma will box _both _our ears when she finds us!" He told him, and Sean grinned and playfully swatted his father's hand away before nodding.

"I will momma, I promise!" He told her and Branna smiled affectionately. She pressed a loving kiss to his head before straightening up and allowing him to run off in the direction of the monkeybars and his friend. They stood there together and watched him go for a minute before Connor glanced at her.

"Was it hard? Bein' alone and raisin' him all these years?" He asked, his tone quiet, and Branna heaved a sigh as she led him over to a nearby bench where they could sit and keep a pretty good line of sight on their son.

"I wasn' ever really alone, Conn. I had grandpa and Bri – they were always good help when I needed it. And then I had other friends too . . ."

"Ya know what I meant, _mavourneen_." He spoke, his tone gentle, and she gazed at him for a moment before swallowing heavily and nodding.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I do, and yeah, ya right. It _was_ hard at times – _really _hard. There were a lot of times I'd cry maself ta sleep at night. There were times where I'd dream of ya and Sean in an alternate reality where ya and Murph _didn' _leave. And those . . . those times helped me through tha hard ones more than anyting else, I won' lie."

"Branna, is tha' ya, darlin'?"

Branna immediately broke out into a grin when she saw an older woman approaching them, and she nodded. "Ms. O'Shaughnessy, how good it is ta see ya! How 'ave ya been?" She asked, and the older woman heaved a sigh and gave a shrug.

"Oh ya know, dear, I've been the same I've always been." She told her and Branna nodded before glancing at Connor sitting beside her, where she placed her hand on his chest.

"Ms. O'Shaughnessy, this is Connor – Connor MacManus. Connor, this is Sean's sometime babysitter, Ms. Margery O'Shaughnessy. She prefers Marge, though." She introduced them and Ms. O'Shaughnessy adopted a slightly interested look as they both leaned forward to shake hands, Connor giving her a friendly smile as he did so.

"MacManus . . .?" She asked slowly, and Branna nodded.

"Yeah, tha same MacManus of me and Sean's last name. He's . . . he's ma boyfriend, and Sean's father. He's been workin' in tha Old Country for tha past eight years now, and . . . jus' now has been able ta come home ta us." She told her and Ms. O'Shaughnessy adopted a sympathetic look.

"Oh ya poor dear – bein' so long witout ya family! What 'ave ya been doin' all these years?"

Connor shrugged. "Herdin' mostly – sheep. Ma da owned his own place and me and ma brother kept up wit tha animals. On tha side when I could, I also worked on tha docks." Ms. O'Shaughnessy smiled as she took up Branna's hand and held in hers.

"Well bless ya, child! I know how hard it's been on ya all these years raisin' young Sean alone, and I tank God Connor finally found a way to come home ta ya two!" She told her, and Branna gave her a thankful smile as she nodded.

"Tank ya, Marge. I really appreciate it." She told her and Ms. O'Shaughnessy nodded and gave them both a kind smile before saying goodbye and moving on. Branna and Connor's eyes locked then and he gave her a smile.

"Ya do realize tha' me bein' back is gonna be all over tha Irish District of Boston now, right?" He asked and she nodded, a little confidently.

"Oh, I know. But 'bout time, right?" She asked and he gave a shrug as he turned to gaze out over the playground, catching sight of Sean easily.

"I'm jus' glad ta be home, Branna. I don' tink ya realize how much ya two 'ave _already _become ma everythin'." She gave him a smile as she placed a loving hand on his shoulder. The touch turned his eyes onto her and she held his gaze unwaveringly.

"Tank God for tha', too." She murmured and he returned her smile before leaning over and pressing his lips to hers in a soft, loving kiss. When they broke apart, Branna moved closer to him, where she placed her head on his shoulder. Then, together, they sat there and watched their son run around with his friends on the playground, in a comfortable silence that they had long since missed.

And as Connor sat there on the park bench with Branna tucked securely up into his side, his eyes constantly on Sean, he found himself marveling yet again, that the little boy with the dark skin, light brown hair and bright blue eyes, was his son.

It took him a while to reconcile himself to the fact again that Sean was _Branna's_ son, too . . . _their _son . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**God dang it, this chapter did not want to get written (as evident from the length of time it took me to update) and when it finally decided TO be written out, I came up with this . . . lackluster chapter. Not really pleased with it so I might come back in and edit it, but I'm not sure yet. Guess we'll see :/**

**mrsreedus69: Yeah, there's Connor and Sean daddy/bonding time at the end of the chapter. Your welcome :)**

**JDB (Guest): Smut comes next chapter (I'm pretty sure I've planned it out that way, anyway). I can't do smut every chapter - it'll drive me fuckin' insane, so I have to do filler chapters with plot in them . . . like this chapter . . . which probably came out the way it did because there is no smut . . _dammit_!**

**PS - Sorry for the short chapter - will be longer next chapter :)**

* * *

_A Week Later . . ._

His son . . . Sean Connor MacManus . . . his _son_ . . .!

Even now, the words sounded and tasted so completely foreign on Connor's tongue, that he found himself muttering them under his breath whenever Murphy wasn't around to hear them, in the hopes that he would eventually get used to them. He had truthfully never thought that he would have kids – judging his life too risky and/or not wanting them to get into the same line of vigilante business that him and Murphy's father had inadvertently dragged them into. But the longer he stayed over at Branna's apartment and the longer he spent time with Sean – bonding with him over cartoons, westerns (of which he seemed to have inherited Connor's love of), Lego's and elementary school level homework - the more he realized that he was starting to want to give _anything _for the life the two of them were forging – the life that he was now technically a very important part of.

"Hey Conn, where ya goin'?"

Connor froze halfway to the door of the bar, and turned around, where he saw Murphy standing by the storeroom with Romeo, a slightly curious look on his face. His jaw hardened as he turned to face his brother. His overnight bag was slung over his shoulder and he hated going through this again – giving excuses and lying to his brother about where exactly he was going and to whom. He really did.

But every day that passed that he wasn't around them, made him hurt. It made it heart ache and it made him feel anxious – like if he stayed away too long, he wouldn't have them to go back to.

Doc was the only one who actually knew of his and Branna's new relationship aside from the twins' mother, him being Branna's grandfather. And while Connor was confident that he and Annabelle had said nothing to anyone about it, it actually wasn't long after Connor came back, that he realized that Romeo had found him out – or at least partially. Connor didn't think he knew it was Branna that he was staying with for days at a time, per say, but he did know that it was _someone_. He would constantly catch the Mexican sending him slightly suspicious, searching glares and would reply by sending him a sarcastic wave as he left. And it wasn't long after Romeo started suspecting something that everyone else who spent any length of time in McGinty's, did too. It was normally a sarcastic wave that would get Romeo back to minding his own business, but there was always the low buzzing of rumors but they stayed just that: rumors that remained easy to quash when they had the power to grow too out of control.

He returned to Branna and Sean whenever he could manage it, and after Connor would spend a few days with Murphy and Romeo. He would find himself throwing everything of himself that he possibly could into the new family life that he was unwittingly forging with the two people that meant the most to him in the entire world, then he would return to the bar and to his brother and his friends for a few days. That was their pattern: a few days at Branna's with her and Sean and then a few days at the bar – rinse, repeat. It seemed to suit them fine for the moment and Connor had yet to hear either Branna or Sean complain about it.

Connor gave a shrug and looked away as he buried his hands deep in the front pockets of his jeans. "Oh . . . nowhere important. I'll be back in a few days." Murphy nodded slowly at his brother's words.

"Yeah, ya always are, but still. What 'ave we done since we got back? We're supposed ta be lookin' inta tha death of the Priests, but instead . . . instead ya gone for three days at a time intermittently and when ya _do _come back, it's not like ya can concentrate on anythin'!"

Even now, as Murphy spoke, Connor felt himself only half-listening. He glanced anxiously at the door over his shoulder and considered just leaving, but knew that would piss off Murphy and make him angrily follow him out the door. Then he really wouldn't be able to get him off his back.

"Look, Murph . . . I gotta . . . I gotta go. Can we . . . maybe do this another time?"

Murphy stood there, glaring at him for a moment before giving a shrug. "Ya've already asked tha', Conn. Ya asked tha' tha other day when ya left – same damn ting, ta be exact. When is this "other time" gonna come?" Connor heaved a sigh as he glanced back at the door again. He wanted to leave – he _needed_ to leave. He imagined Sean getting home from school, excited that it was the day his father would be home waiting for him, only to be disappointed when he wasn't. He imagined Branna cooking a meal that he would not eat, and his heart gave a wild thump at the imaginings – almost as if it couldn't handle the possibility that he might miss out on those things.

"Look, Murph -!"

"Are ya wit Branna?"

Connor's eyes widened as he returned his gaze onto his brother. Murphy gave a shrug when he had his attention. "It's jus' tha fact tha' ya gone for days at a time and since ya obviously ain' doin' recon, then it makes sense tha' ya've tracked down Bran. 'Ave ya?"

Connor swallowed hard and eventually nodded. "Yeah . . . yeah, I 'ave."

A look of hurt flickered across Murphy's face then. "And . . . she hasn' asked 'bout me at all?" Connor rolled her eyes.

"O' course she's asked 'bout ya, Murphy, its jus' . . . she ain' ready ta see ya yet." He told him and Murphy's eyes immediately narrowed in anger.

"Oh, but it's perfectly fine for her ta see ya, eh? Perfectly fine for ya ta fuck her?" Connor rolled his eyes again.

"It ain' like tha', Murphy -!"

"O' course it ain'. Sorry. Sorry I even asked. Really, I should 'ave known better. It's been ya, Connor – it's _always _been ya, Connor. I should 'ave known tha' now tha' we're back, she'd only be interested in seein' ya again." Connor shook his head.

"Murph, it ain' _like _tha'! There's a _reason_ she's not ready ta see ya yet, believe me! And once she figures out how ta tell ya, then -!"

"Ya know what - jus' shut it, Conn!" Murphy interrupted him with a shake of his head. "Go back ta Branna and her _big secret_ and then come back when ya ready. But when ya come back, ya damn better well be ready to figure this shite out!"

Connor stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak – to tell him that Branna's big problem was really _their _big family – but his eyes crossed with Doc's before he could speak. The older man slowly shook his head and Connor closed his mouth with a defeated sigh. He stood there for a minute and watched him walk off in an angry huff, before his eyes crossed with Romeo's uneasy ones. He had witnessed fights between the two brothers before, but those fights had always been a little on the good-natured side. This fight . . . this fight wasn't.

"Please tell me you's two's fights aren't always like that?" He asked, and Connor and Doc both shook their heads.

"Only when Bran's concerned, Rome. And right now, I don' tink she's gonna be brought up again for a very long time."

* * *

He could hear her moving around in the kitchen when he unlocked the door and stepped into her apartment. Feeling himself relax the longer he stood there in the doorway, he only stepped away when Branna appeared in the archway to the kitchen, a slightly concerned look on her face.

"Ya okay?" She asked, and he gave her a small smile and a nod. He stepped forward and after curling a hand around her waist, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Yah, I'm fine, _mavourneen_. I jus' . . . had some trouble with Murph before I came." He told her as he left her and headed for the bedroom, where he slung his overnight bag onto the bed. Her look of concern deepened as she returned to the food she had on the stove.

"Was it anyting big?" She asked, and he shook his head as he returned to the kitchen. He came up behind her and after wrapping his arms around her waist, pulled her back and against him.

"Don' worry 'bout it. What'cha cookin'?" He asked, changing the subject, and she rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be drawn back into him.

"Colcannon. But it ain' done yet. So ya wanna go pick Sean up from school for me?" She asked him and he stood there for a minute, thinking, before nodding.

"Ya know, I tink I will. Surprise him." He told her, and she smiled as he moved over to the island counter on his quest to the front door.

"I hope this tastes good . . . I added someting new to it and now I'm a little uneasy 'bout it . . ." She mused, but Connor turned around to face her again, a grin on his face.

"Don' worry, _mavourneen_, I'm sure ya'll still taste amazin'."

Branna shot him a look over her shoulder. "I was _talkin' _'bout tha food, Connor!" She remarked, and Connor gave her a grin and wink.

"And I wasn'!"

* * *

When the school bell split harshly through the air, letting everyone know that school was over that day, Connor smiled when he saw Sean was one of the first ones out when the flood of fleeing students exited the plain brick building. Flanked on either side by two taller boys but both with thick Irish accents, he was mid-conversation when his eyes flickered upwards and locked with Connor's. He immediately broke out into a broad grin as he ran forward and flung himself at his father. His arms wrapped tightly around his waist and Connor chuckled as he returned the hug.

"How did ya day go?" He asked him, and Sean pulled away from him, where he nodded.

"It was pretty good. How long are you staying for, this time?" He asked, more interested in how long his father was going to stay with them, than how his day at school went. That question, he'd answer his mother when she asked.

Connor knew Sean hoped he was going to say forever, he also knew he couldn't. Sean didn't exactly know why his father was gone for intermittent periods of time, but he knew it was for something important. His father wouldn't leave them again without a damn good reason.

"I'm stayin' a little bit longer than tha' last – four days this time. How does tha' sound?" He asked him, and Sean gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I wish you could stay longer . . ." He confessed, a little glumly, before he said goodbye to his friends and allowed Connor to steer him down the street towards home. Connor nodded in agreement as he placed a gentle hand on his back.

"I know, Sean, I know. Its jus' . . . I 'ave some important tings I need to clear up wit ya uncle, and then I'll be wit ya and ya ma for as long as tha both of ya will want me." He told him and Sean stayed silent for a moment, thinking, before giving a confidant nod and turning his eyes up to Connor's.

"Then you will end up staying forever. If I know ma, she won't ever let you go again." He told him, and Connor grinned and laughed as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, where he brought him against his side as they continued to walk down the street.

"Well, ya know, tha'd be fine wit me, Sean. 'Cause I don' ever plan on leavin' ya two either."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, bad boy chapter did not want to be written. Those are always so much fun, if you ask me. But it does have a lemon, so yay! :)**

**JDB7707: Here's your smut. Hope your happy ;)**

**mrsreedus69: Yeah, shit's about to hit the fan if you haven't discerned that from the end of this chapter. And probably next chapter too. Can't wait! ;)**

* * *

_"How you turn my world, you precious little thing."_

_- Jareth, _Labyrinth

The first heated discussion between Connor and Branna since Connor's return, had taken place one lazy, very warm and very sunny summer day. In fact, it had been an unusually warm and an unusually sunny Boston day, in fact. Sean was at a friend's house, leaving them alone to do whatever they wanted – an opportunity that Connor was already starting to cherish. Opting to spend that day in bed sleeping in, so far, neither one of them had made any inclination towards moving. They lay there naked on her great sheet-swathed bed, Branna on her back while Connor lay on his stomach in-between in her parted legs. One of her legs lay supine alongside him while the other was planted on the mattress and bent upwards at the knee. A callused hand gripped her waist as he planted leisurely kisses along the olive-colored skin of her stomach, hips and sides. Her eyes were pinned to the outside world beyond her opened windows and one of her hands lay deep within the ebony tresses spread out around her head on one of the pillows propped up behind her. The discussion had started because Branna had stupidly allowed her mind to wander into Murphy territory that lazy, very warm, very sunny summer day.

"Have ya told him anyting yet . . .?" Branna's quiet voice broke through the silence surrounding them. Her words seemed to fade them into an even deeper silence than the one they had been previously submerged been in until the only sounds around them were the honking of the cars driving down the road outside her window, to the air conditioning unit _in _her window. The air conditioning unit was the only source of coolness that was able to kiss at their still sweat beading skin, and Connor took a moment to tear his lips away from her to gaze up at her. His beautiful light brown hair matched the darkness of her skin in such a beautiful way and she knew the laziness in his eyes was a mere reflection of her own. He moved to entwine his fingers together and used them to support his chin on her stomach. With a gently teasing smile, he finally replied to her. Neither of them had the energy for the heavy flirtation and innuendo that normally laced their every encounter with each other.

"I haven' told him anyting aside from tha fact tha' ya aren' ready ta see him yet. Why – do ya want me ta tell him ya are?" He asked her, and Branna sighed as she turned her head to gaze down at him. Draped in a red silk nightie that had already been shoved up well past her hips and with long ebony tresses haloing her head against the white silk pillow behind her, Connor could never have envisioned a more beautiful woman lying before and partially underneath him.

She noticed the flicker of uneasiness in his eyes at his question, though, and knew in her heart that Connor no longer wished to share her with anyone at that moment and even probably for forever onward – including his brother of who he had done so before for quite some time. She also knew it was because of their son. Sean was a new variable in the equation and Connor didn't want anyone to come in and fuck up their relationship – the home life that they were starting to build for themselves and for him now.

"It's nothin', I suppose, jus' . . ." She shook her head. "Ya 'ave ta tell him somethin' eventually and tha longer ya keep him in tha dark wit me and Sean, tha more pissed off he's gonna be when ya finally _do_ tell him! I mean, Hell, from what ya told me 'bout yesterday, he already seems like he's liable ta blow his stack any day now! And if ya found me, then what's ta say, he couldn'?" She told him and immediately noticed the flicker of resentment that appeared in Connor's eyes.

"Call me selfish, Branna, but I don' want anyone ta ruin what we havenow!" He shrugged in what he hoped was an indifferent manner but one that Branna could see was one of the hardest acts for him to ever have to try and play off differently than what it actually was. "An' it's not tha' I don' tink tha' Murph's gonna come in here and piss on everythin' we have, its jus' . . .!" He trailed off and a slightly sad look appeared in his eyes then. He didn't need to say anything more – Branna instantly understood what he was trying to say. She knew he often looked around the rooms in her apartment and found himself wondering if those walls could be persuaded to grow to accommodate him as well – if her bed and her heart could also after how he and his brother had so cruelly abandoned her. And no matter how much she found herself telling herself that this whole thing was only temporary, the more she realized that it wasn't. Connor's clothes were already starting to fill the drawers of her dresser and helping to line her closet. In addition, his toothbrush, cologne, razor and _Irish Spring _body wash were slowly starting to stake their own little individual territories in her bathroom. Her bed was starting to develop a very suspicious Connor-like indentation in the mattress, and no matter how many times she washed her sheets, they still retained a smell and a musk that was inherently Connor-esque. Hell, she realized that things were destined to become permanent, when she would walk into the apartment after work some days and see Connor and Sean sitting on the couch watching TV, eyes perpetually glued on the screen. The same bag of chips would be sitting in-between them and every single movement one of them would make, would be a mirror image of the other's – all happening at the same time.

And the more this went on, the more Branna realized that she didn't want this to end either. The more this happened, the more she realized that she didn't _want_ to do this with anyone _but _Connor. That she had _always_ wanted this with him - this happy, blissful family life they had now.

"Ya wan' ta keep this a secret 'tween us for as long as ya can, don' ya?" She asked him softly, and he glanced at her briefly before forcing himself to look away again.

"Yeah, well, there's no helpin' tha', now is there? Everyone's eventually gonna figure it out and like ya said, tha longer we keep Murph in tha dark 'bout this, tha more pissed off he's gonna be!" He turned his eyes onto her then, one eyebrow cocked in a rather sarcastic manner. "I'm actually surprised ya not beggin' me ta invite Murph over wit me one night. 'Cause, from wha' I remember, ya used to love it when we'd do ya at tha same time!"

He didn't see the scowl that appeared on Branna's face as he shook his head. He traced abstract patterns into the soft skin of her stomach - in the small stretch of skin underneath her belly button that had housed his child for nine long months. It had been nine long months that he had not once been a witness too, and every time that fact popped into his head, it saddened his heart more than anything ever had before. "But no . . . ya haven' brought it up once and I can' help but feel grateful. I don' wan' ta share ya anymore – not wit anyone but our son." His eyes finally connected with hers again and saw that her face was now expressionless.

"Ya tink I wan' ta share ya too, Conn? Ya tink I _want _ya ta have ta share me anymore?" She asked him, her eyes darkening slightly, and it was his turn for his face to become expressionless.

"I didn' say tha' – I simply stated tha' I was surprised -"

"I'm a mother now, Connor. I have to tink diff'rently now, ya know? And besides, I love ya – I don' want anyone else _but _ya right now! I want ta be selfish too."

"Well, excuse me if I brought it up after tha's how our relationship was in tha past!" He almost snapped back and Branna's jaw hardened slightly.

"Wha' do ya want me ta say, Conn? Tha' I regret the relationship tha' the three of us had back then? Tha' if given the chance, I wouldn' do it again?"

Connor laughed and rolled his eyes. "O' course not, Branna, 'cause I know tha' ya wouldn'! _I _wouldn' either!" He told her as he cocked another slightly sarcastic brow. "But I love ya too – ya _and _Sean, and more than either of ya can even begin ta comprehend, in fact! I would kill for ya; I would kill for our _son_! I would take a bullet for Sean without even tinkin' 'bout it, and tha same goes for ya too! And, quite frankly, I love not havin' to share ya wit anyone 'cause I love bein' the _only_ one who can do this ta ya now . . .!"

Then, without breaking eye contact, he buried his mouth in-between her thighs as he firmly grasped them in his hands. It was a movement that almost immediately had Branna's head slamming back onto the pillows behind her as her hips almost bucked out of his hands and as she released a moan. Connor lapped her up with the broad flat of his tongue and she found herself letting out another moan, especially when he expertly found the tight little bundle of nerves at the apex and encircled it with the tip, his hands holding her hips in place as she squirmed against him. She was warm and pliant until he reached her center and found her core, so soft and heated from within by an inferno that it made him let out a wanton groan as he pulled her closer to him.

"Dammit Conn, why do ya have ta make it so hard ta have a serious conversation with ya sometimes?" She groaned out somewhat bitterly although entirely breathlessly, and she could hear Connor chuckle as sparks began to dance across her fingertips. She began riding his tongue when he entered her, and his eyes fixed heatedly on her face as he curled his tongue upwards, exploring the slick channel as he pressed his nose upwards to brush against that sensitive nub. Her hips thrust upwards, burying him in her tangy deliciousness and Connor groaned against her again as he yanked her towards him and began flicking the tip of his tongue against her nub. One hand left her hip and he slid two fingers deep inside that aching heat, crooking them in his search for . . . for . . .

Branna immediately cried out his name, a whimper that turned into a wail - a keening cry of aching, begging need. It let him know that he had indeed found what he was looking for. He suckled her nub into his mouth and gave it a gentle tug, causing her to almost immediately whimper out his name as her hand fisted tightly in his hair. He could feel the rippling of her inner walls as she clamped down on his fingers and flexed her hips to thrust against him. A plea of his name became strung out like a mantra in the quiet air of the room as the lazy afternoon sunlight bathed her in a warm yellow light – in light and life and flame - and then she finally came hard against his fingers and his tongue. He eagerly swallowed and lapped up her release, watching her as she sagged against the pillows and soft sheets. She started whimpering as he continued the onslaught, his fingers pumping hard as he drove her toward the precipice again. When he finally lifted his mouth from her, he breathed in deep and licked the taste of her from his lips.

He left her on the very edge of another climax before grinning cockily and moving to lean on his elbows above her. "Oh, I'm so rude - forgive me, _mo shíorghrá_! Now wha' were ya sayin', Miss. Whelan?" His eyes flashed and she gritted her teeth as her hands planted on his chest and flipped them over. Straddling his waist, she waited no time in impaling herself on him, her back arching as she began riding him. Her desire-filled eyes found his as he grasped her hips and rocked her roughly but still rhythmically against him.

"Don' ya _dare _call me Miss. Whelan! I am _not_ jus' some floozy ya can _fuck _at ya every whim!" She growled through gritted teeth and even though she knew she was not just a woman to him – that she had _never _been just a woman to Connor MacManus, that still felt good to say. Connor replied with a grin as he flipped them over to where she was underneath him. Legs sliding up his to wrap around his lean waist, he withdrew and with one long, rough thrust, reentered her. She let out a moan as her eyes closed and their lips met in a passionate kiss as Connor set a slow and languid but hard rhythm that better suited the lazy, hot day that engulfed them in a sweltering heat.

"Then . . . wha' _do_ I get ta call ya?" He breathed out when they finally broke apart. Branna, her breathing erratic from denying herself something she wanted so much, planted her hands on his chest and moved him upwards into a sitting position. Connor's hands moved down to grasp her thighs in order to better keep her upwards and them connected. They kissed again as they continued to rock against each other, Branna's arms moved to wrap loosely around his neck. She loved having a strong man.

"If ya insist on callin' me anythin' but Branna, then I suppose ya can call me . . ." She trailed off and thought for a minute. When she finally spoke, her eyes flashed as a grin split her features. "Mrs. MacManus when we're alone, Connor . . . and only if ya feelin' playful." She breathed when their lips finally found themselves disconnected, and by the hitch in his breath that was mimicked by thrusts for a moment, she could tell that he very much liked that idea. "For here, I am ya equal – ya one and only girl . . .!" She let out a gasp as he pulled her nightgown down, finally freeing her breasts to his roving eyes and her fingers tangled in his light brown hair as his lips latched onto a wine-colored nipple, where he played and suckled at it with his tongue and his teeth. "Oh God, yes – _here_, Connor, I am ya _wife_!"

His hips suddenly stopped moving against hers and Branna immediately let out an irritated moan of protest as she slapped a hand none-too-kindly against his shoulder. "Connor MacManus, wha' the Hell are ya -?"

"Marry me."

"Conn, wha' are ya -?" Branna asked in slight confusion and shock as she gave a shake of her head, and Connor nodded in reply as his eyes grew wide - almost like he was shocked that he hadn't thought of it before.

"I tink ya heard me right. Marry me, Branna Whelan - marry me _today_, in fact! We can go down ta tha courthouse right now if ya want ta and do dis! Pick up Sean early from school, take him wit us . . .!" She gave a bark of incredulous laughter then.

"Are ya bein' _serious_ right now, Conn? Ya stop right in tha middle of some of tha best sex we've ever had together, _jus'_ ta ask me if I'll marry ya?" She asked him and Connor gave a firm nod alongside a half grin and a laugh.

"I'm bein' as serious as a damn heart attack right now, Branna!" He shook his head then, his face becoming quite solemn. "I don' wan' ta call ya Mrs. MacManus unless ya really _are _Mrs. MacManus – even in jest! I wan' ta be here for ya – for ya and our son and tha best way for me ta do tha' is if I'm married ta ya! I'll be less inclined ta do anythin' ya consider _stupid_, if I'm committed to ya!" He pulled her down to him, where he kissed her – hard and deep and passionate. When they broke apart, he closed his eyes and nuzzled her for a moment. "Make me the happiest man on tha face of tha planet today, Branna, please!"

Branna gazed at him in speechlessness for another moment, not knowing what she wanted to say. She knew Connor wouldn't hold it against her if she said no but . . . then would they still have a relationship? Would he continue on with their relationship as if nothing had happened – as if anything hadn't been said? Or would he mope and turn melancholy? And truthfully, Branna didn't know, but she did know _one _thing.

She _wanted _to say yes. Why else would she have changed her name to MacManus when looking for a new apartment?

After a moment, she swallowed hard and bit down on her bottom lip before nodding. "Yeah . . . yeah, I'll marry ya, Connor." She told him and the grin that split across his face at her words, was damn near infectious. In fact, when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate, breath-taking kiss, she was caught unawares by how muddled with pleasure it made her thoughts. And when he pinned her underneath him and took her in a slow, deep way that made her thoughts scatter like scraps of paper on the breeze, she knew she had made the right decision.

Hell, for once, she knew it was a decision she _wouldn't _regret.


End file.
